


A Life Less Ordinary

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anjali's life has always run along a different path, as has Mohinder's. One late night phone call reveals just how much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Life Less Ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cellshader's prompt: "As she lives and breathes"

Anjali Suresh has learned to put her trust in fate.

Life has dealt her far too many surprises and if the (easier) alternative is to wallow while slipping into a state of perpetual loneliness she chooses to seek the silver lining that would bestow upon her a relatively happy life.

The cards that were dealt her are as follows: the eldest daughter of Susmita and Visvan Patel, she had a strong will balanced out with a generous amount of compassion. Although she accepted the traditional sacraments expected of her (namely education and marriage), her choice of study and husband bore all the marks of her own insistence. She was drawn to childhood development with specific regards to special needs kids and while in pursuit of that goal she was introduced to a young I.T. student whose parents had expressed an interest in her.

Anjali suspected they mistakenly viewed her as docile and easily nipped and tucked into the perfect wife and daughter-in-law based on her ability to present as traditional when the situation encouraged it. Their opinion mattered to her as much as his name--which was to say, not at all. It was his best friend, Chandra Suresh, however, who captured her unwavering interest.

His was a scattered mind except when dealing with his study of genetics. “Mad scientist,” Anjali would joke with her sister, but beneath her amused laughter was fascination. Chandra did not care what others thought of him and his work. Where others saw snobbery and egotism, Anjali recognized individuality and drive. She took her time with him, genuinely interested in this theories and experiments. Although some of the heavier details went over her head she had a far better grasp of his work than most. It was a realization acknowledged by Chandra in the surprised smile that lit his face in response to her thoughtful questions.

Marriage was a balancing act they worked at and more often than not it was Anjali who made sure to break him free of his scientific reverie to bask in the calm and joy of family. Chandra was not a difficult nut to crack. He simply needed a shove in the right direction and opened up.

Their first child, and only daughter, Shanti, was the welcomed culmination of both parents. She had her mother's good nature and curiosity for life, and her body housed an unfounded genetic anomaly that made her the apple of her father's eye. But as was the case with seemingly perfect happiness, destiny dictated it could not last long or must be met with tragedy.

Shanti's sickness was devastating and it tore at both Anjali and Chandra. Hope, in all its desperation and urgency, came in the unproven theory that the blood of a sibling might hold the cure. Mohinder's birth may have been seen by outsiders as a cold and extreme attempt to save one child, but Anjali felt it to be unparalleled love for both. She was attached to Mohinder from the moment he began to form in her, in ways she could never truly articulate. It was for his sake that she hoped the experiment would work--so that he would know his sister, so that Chandra could see the wonder in their second born--but the gods were not so kind.

Shanti's death unintentionally drew battle lines in the sand. Anjali walked the no mans land between grief stricken father and innocent son, but a fissure had been torn that ensured a strained and never fully realized relationship formed between them. She knew Chandra loved Mohinder but she also saw the lost look in his faraway gaze--Mohinder was not Shanti and he could not go through the sorrow of losing another child. Chandra chose to retreat first.

His decision was unconscionable by Anjali's standards but she could not force his hand. What she could do was make sure the type of relationship that Mohinder deserved was one he had with at least one parent. Yet, as close as they were (and their bond was incredibly tight) Mohinder, like any normal person who was presented with what he does and does not have, anxiously sought his father's approval. They had kept the truth of Shanti's existence and death from him (Anjali could not fathom burdening the boy with something out of his control that he would never overcome) but at times his desperate desire to impress Chandra played out like penance.

It broke Anjali's heart. Her pleas fell on Chandra's deaf ears. Shanti's death spurred his work into more fantastical directions, as if he was turning her life and death into a reason to live, a crusade. He became isolated and nearly fanatical, his credibility in his field going from respected and admired to crackpot. Still, he persisted. And Anjali knew he was right, just ahead of his time.

His mission was to find people like Shanti. He had not thought too much beyond that initial goal. A love letter to his daughter, he wanted those who were advanced to walk in the light of adulation and admiration. Chandra was insistent. And in the quiet of night as Anjali lay with him in bed and he stroked her face, she saw in his eyes the man who had first made her believe life could be so much more, and in his quiet words she heard his unwavering love.

Her one regret was that Mohinder never knew that Chandra. He only knew the distant one, the man he could never measure up to; the one who picked up and left his family, seeking new direction in New York. The one who went from doctor to taxi driver to murder victim, the man who Mohinder still followed, even if he was no more than a ghost.

By the time Mohinder returned to India with Chandra's ashes, Anjali knew enough of love that letting go was the equivalent of a declaration of forever and then some. Her bond with Mohinder was stronger than the confession of what had kept him from having a close relationship with his father. It was undisturbed by the physical geography that stretched out between them when Mohinder decided to return to New York to pick up where Chandra had left off.

What Chandra had failed to see but Anjali witnessed with pride was that Mohinder had the brains and the heart to be at the center of humanities evolutionary leap forward. It would serve him well and painfully. He felt too strongly. Where Chandra recognized it as a failure for a scientist, Anjali saw it as a necessary collaboration. Chandra had needed Anjali to keep him in check. Mohinder had his heart--he simply had to learn how to use it.

With Mohinder in America permanently on adventures that he kept her very distantly apprised of, she channeled her life into friends and family who were her backbone and working with special needs children that gave her a sense of joyous accomplishment. As desired, life was good.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** **********   
**

Every Saturday afternoon Anjali has a standing invitation for tea with her best friend, Rashida. They have known each other since university and Rashida has been the one confidante who has heard all of Anjali's hopes and worries that fill her life.

Tea with Rashida is like taking a deep breath. It soothes Anjali's soul even when she feels fine. In a way it is as if time is stopped and they are sitting outside of its restraints and demands. Today's conversation has produced a feeling of loss for Mohinder's absence. It has been a month since they last spoke on the phone and by the time she makes it back home it is a matter of seconds before she has the phone in hand and is sitting on the living room sofa. She does not care that he must be sleeping (after all it must be about 2:00 am) she just wants to hear his voice.

Sitting back on the sofa she listens to the successive rings.

“Hello?”

The words are garbled by sleep and for a second Anjali thinks she has phoned the wrong number. “Mohinder?” she asks with uncertainty.

There is a pause then a ruffling of sheets and what sounds like whispering. She furrows her brow in concentration while trying to pick up every detail of what is happening on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

That voice she most definitely knows. “Hello my love,” she smiles.

“Mmm,” he mumbles softly and she can hear the grin that surely accompanies the sound. “How are you?”

“Good,” she says then emphatically clarifies, “very good. I haven't spoken with you in ages. I'm sure I've woken you but I wanted to make sure all was well.”

“Everything is fine, mum.”

“And work? Is it going well?”

“Work is busy and I've been granted access to do more research on the side.”

Anjali is confused by what he says, a matter not helped by the fact that he is still inexplicably talking very quietly. “Are you no longer driving a taxi?”

Mohinder sighs and mutters something unintelligible. Before she can ask him to repeat what he has said he speaks a hint louder and more clearly into the phone. “Unfortunately yes, I'm still driving a taxi but a…” his voice drops low again giving her the impression he is trying to settle on the right word. “A friend of mine has contacts at the university and called in a favour. I guess my research is like a side gig.”

She hears the edge of disappointment in his voice. He sounds almost like Chandra when she spoke with him during his first month in New York. He had been disenchanted with how easily he was downgraded from revelatory scientist to no name immigrant taxi driver. He felt it insulting but necessary. By comparison Mohinder sounds less bothered. Anjali attributes the difference to his more easygoing nature.

Alongside his change in tone, Anjali channels in on his particular use of the word friend. “How's Peter doing? He is the one who helped you, right?”

Mohinder sighs but it is one of amusement not exasperation. “Yes…Peter pulled some strings. And yes he's doing very well. How about you? Is work good?”

She ignores how quickly he has changed the subject back over to her. “We're making big strides with the center,” she says. “It's good to be busy and doing something I'm proud of.”

“I'm sure it is. Lots of students I imagine? Are they…exceptionally special?”

Anjali contemplates the best way to answer his question. There are two students who would fit Mohinder's definition of “special” but she is still unclear to what extent they fall into that new category. Besides she would prefer a more relaxed and non-work related conversation with her son. “Not the way you're thinking. Although Miriam thinks her nephew is extraordinarily gifted.”

Mohinder's laugh turns into a yawn. “Of course she does. Is she still trying to convince anyone who will listen that Rahim was a baby genius?”

The memory makes Anjali smile. “I seem to recall Mira coming up with some fancy sounding terminology that had Miriam walking on cloud nine for weeks.”

“Mira diagnosed him as perfectly and utterly normal but used impressive sounding words. She was good at dealing with people like that,” Mohinder says, sounding momentarily distracted.

“Do you keep in touch with her?” Anjali inquires.

There is silence on the other end. She has not meant the question to imply she wants a romantic relationship between the two. There is no denying that she adores Mira--smart, strong, caring--but she also saw how Mohinder was not as invested when he was with her, he was too focused on other things, looking for something that was not there. At the very least, however, Anjali likes the idea of them as friends. That was all she meant by the question she now regrets having asked.

“Mohinder?”

There are more ruffling sheets and what seem to be muffled words.

“Can you hold on for a second?” Mohinder suddenly asks without waiting for her to respond.

At first she guesses he has covered one end of the phone because she cannot make out anything. Then either he drops his hand from its place on the receiver or it slips, but Anjali can hear more puzzling sounds, unclear due to how quiet they are.

“[_unintelligible_] are you?”

“Yes.”

“I'm [_unintelligible_]. Not [_unintelligible_] but if [ _unintelligible_].”

“Do [_unintelligible_]?”

“Fine.”

She hears footsteps on the other end and pictures Mohinder barefoot and pacing the floor of his room. Slowly she stands up. Every movement she makes overrides the low noises from Mohinder's side of the connection so she presses the receiver almost painfully against her ear and keeps her own actions exaggeratedly slow and conscious while she turns towards the kitchen.

“Leave the [_unintelligible_].”

[muffled sound, footsteps]

[_Sigh_]

“I [_unintelligible_] stay. Please.”

Anjali cannot say for certain but she thinks she hears a kiss. Her curiosity is further stroked by the unexpected certainty that it is another man whom Mohinder is speaking with. She is not necessarily surprised considering how little she knows of his personal life. And with the exception of Mira, Mohinder did not express a keen interest in dating. In any case, Anjali suspected that with Mira it was more a case of two good friends who figured they should give it a go to appease their parents more than anything.

She begins to wonder how much Mohinder has felt the need to keep from her and questions if she has unintentionally given him reason to believe he would not have her support. She is not exactly thrilled at the idea of him being in a relationship with a man but she likens that to her own inexperience at dealing with it. Besides, Mohinder is her son. If he is happy and in love, then that is all she can ask for. She has seen him search for his place in the world, struggle for it, and the possibility that he may have found some taste of it brings relief to the worry that had nestled at the back of her mind. Most importantly for her, he is not alone.

“Sorry about that,” Mohinder interrupts her thoughts, speaking at almost a normal volume. “I haven't spoken with Mira in awhile. You know how it is. Different directions.”

Anjali enters the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water. She considers ignoring the elephant on the phone but ultimately decides to get it out in the open. “Is someone there with you?” she asks and takes a loud gulp.

Mohinder does not reply.

“I'm so sorry I interrupted,” she rushes and puts the glass in the sink. “I should never have presumed you would be alone. I surely would not have called so late if I thought I'd be waking anyone else up.”

“But it's okay to wake me?” Mohinder jokes then says quietly, “It's okay mum, really.”

It is not an admission or a denial. Once again Anjali is reminded of Chandra.

“I'll let you go,” she says. “I can call you another time. It's really not a problem.”

“You've called now,” he laughs softly. “I'm always happy to hear from you.”

“Flatterer,” she jokes before turning serious. “May I…is it serious?”

Mohinder hesitates. “Yes.”

A flush of warmth rushes across her cheeks and she smiles. “How long have you been seeing each other?”

She hears him take a deep contemplative breath. “We've known each other a few years but have only been together a few months.”

“So no love at first sight?”

“Hardly. More like excessive disapproval.”

Anjali thinks on that a moment. “Ah but see, now you know you can fight and still be happy together.”

“Why am I not surprised you would immediately find the positive angle?”

“Am I wrong?” she challenges.

“…No,” he admits.

“A mother always knows.” She makes her way back to the living room and stretches out on the sofa resting her left leg along the length and bending her right one so that she rests the sole on the cushion. She places her right arm along the backrest and balances the phone against her ear with her left hand. “So how did you and he--how did you two meet?”

Mohinder clears his throat. Anjali recognizes the action. He is uncomfortable and wanting to change the subject without appearing rude. As much as she wants all the information possible, particularly given the fact that this is the first time they have broached this topic, she also does not want to upset him needlessly.

“Never mind, don't tell me yet,” she tries to sound jovial and casual, waving her right hand in the air dismissively. “Let's save that for another time when you're wide awake, not in a sleepy stupor.”

Mohinder does not deny the request, out of relief she supposes. “Do you remember Rashida's nephew, Firaz?” she asks instead.

“Mmmm,” Mohinder mumbles his yes.

“He is thinking about attending university in America and thought he might visit you next year to get a feel for life over there.”

“Um…yeah…yes, sure, of course,” Mohinder's answer is yet again distracted. “Give him my number.”

“Are you okay?” Anjali wonders what has stolen his attention. Her imagination flashes with the now very real imagining of Mohinder sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over with the phone in his left hand, looking up at his mysterious significant other who is standing in the doorway leaning against the frame, his arms folded across his chest.

This other person is an unclear presence in Anjali's mind. She has no idea what kind of man her son would find attractive. She is desperate to put a face to the revelation, to know the person who has found a way into Mohinder's heart.

“I'm fine--,” Mohinder cuts off abruptly.

She hears hushed laughter.

“Stop it,” Mohinder snaps in a tense whisper but the scoff that follows betrays the intended harshness of the order.

“Sorry,” Mohinder says far too loudly, clearly signaling that the phone call is (or should be) his primary focus. “I…uh…what were we…Firaz, right?”

There is small painful tug on Anjali's heart. As much as she appreciates that he is making the effort to put her first it is obvious he would much rather be off the phone. In the years that they have been apart there isn't that much she has felt she could give him. Except this.

“Oh no. It would seem my guests have arrived sooner than expected. I really must go,” she lies.

“Wha--are you sure?” Mohinder is suddenly at full attention.

“My dear. I'm sure you can find better ways to occupy your time than speaking with your mother.”

“Nothing I can think of.”

She rolls her eyes at the sweet sentiment and blatant fib. “Be that as it may, I really must get going. Goodnight my love.”

Mohinder pauses. “Goodnight mum.”

She stares at the receiver in her hand. It is difficult to be so close and so far from Mohinder. And the discovery of him finding love presses on her the urge to make the effort to reconnect with him. She wants to know Mohinder again and the person who has him laughing in the middle of the night, and knows that long distance phones calls from back home at ungodly hours are a necessary nuisance when dating her son.

She refuses to miss out on being as much a supportive part of his life when she is present as when she is far away. For too long distance and lies kept Mohinder from truly knowing his father. Anjali had set out to let him know he had someone in his corner.

The present has revealed its hand to her. Airplane tickets from India to America can be expensive but she has been saving for a time like this. Besides, what is the distance between two people besides what they make of it?

As she lives and breathes she will make sure he knows that.   
 

**Author's Note:**

> Heroes Slash Awards  
> **Best Other Female Characterization**(RUNNER UP)


End file.
